


from way up there

by aspiringwordsmith



Series: cool in college [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Singing in the Shower, YEAH all that good shit!! you know you love it!!!, i Hate songfics tbh but there Are some lyrics in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringwordsmith/pseuds/aspiringwordsmith
Summary: Jeremy has like. Areallypretty voice. Which he refuses to use anywhere but the shower. Michael’s late to this discovery, but now he’ll do pretty much anything to hear it.





	from way up there

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write Jeremy singing in the shower and Michael being Shook. 7k later it’s a full-fledged, fluffy af getting-together fic. 
> 
> Takes place after [keep me company](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152406), but you don't necessarily have to read that first. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [boffinsandbeasties](https://boffinsandbeasties.tumblr.com).

It hadn’t occurred to Michael that he’d never heard Jeremy sing until he was suddenly faced with his best friend’s voice echoing ethereally off the walls of the dorm bathroom in the middle of the night.

Sure, he’d heard Jeremy humming under his breath while he did his math homework, or belting “Happy Birthday” out of tune, but that hardly counted. And while Michael could barely get through his favorite songs without singing along, Jeremy usually seemed content to just sit back and listen.

So Michael didn’t even know what he’d been missing until the night he blinked awake at 3 am to find Jeremy’s bed empty. His eyes narrowed briefly in the semi-darkness, and then snapped wide open. _Squip? Headache? Nightmare? Insomnia? Squip?!?_ his brain supplied helpfully. Michael was halfway out of bed before he forced himself to pause. He considered the rumpled blankets opposite him. It was possible – probable, even – that Jeremy had just gone to the bathroom, wasn’t it? Still...maybe he’d better check on him. You know, as long as he was up.

Michael slid out of bed and fumbled around with his phone flashlight for the goofy shark slippers his mom bought him as a going away present. He spotted them under his desk chair, jammed a foot into each one, and padded out of their room towards the gang bathroom down the hall.

As he approached the men’s room, Michael thought he heard voices. Curious, he pushed the door open and slowed it with a hand as it closed behind him. One of the showers was on, the sound of running water audible from behind the curtain drawn across the last stall in the row. But the more surprising sound was the voice rising above it.

“ _...I’m a fly that’s trapped,_  
_In a web,_  
_but I’m thinking that_  
_my spider’s dead…”_

Michael, transfixed, crept over to the bank of sinks and placed a steadying hand on the counter.

_“...It was always you_  
_falling for me, now there’s always time_  
_calling for me…”_

It was a song Michael had never heard before, but it was undoubtedly Jeremy’s voice singing it. He wasn’t, apparently, one of those people whose singing voices are unrecognizably different from their speaking voices. Jeremy sounded very much like himself, Michael decided, just...gentler. There was a— a confidence, a clarity, a depth of emotion to Jeremy’s song that he didn’t usually afford his voice. It was…. Michael slumped back against the counter, his chest feeling weird and fluttery. It was kinda beautiful.

The tiled walls of the bathroom bounced the sound around so that Jeremy’s voice filled the whole room – not overly loud, thankfully, or they’d have some pissed hallmates to deal with – but amplified enough that Michael could hear every quaver, every place where his friend paused for breath. He felt oddly as though he was being treated to a private performance.

_“I’m the light_  
_blinking at the end of the road_  
_blink back to let me know…”_  


Leaving didn’t even cross Michael’s mind. He stood frozen against the sinks, listening raptly as Jeremy entered the final chorus. At some point Michael’s eyes slid shut. Jeremy’s voice grew softer and softer, lingering sweetly on the final note until it faded away altogether.

And then the water shut off, and Michael slammed abruptly back into awareness. There was a moment of confusion where his legs made to bolt but his hands kept gripping tight to the laminate, but he soon regained control of his body and fled, doing his best to stop the door from slamming behind him. He traversed the stretch of hallway between the bathroom and their dorm room in five massive bounds, whipped the door open, and was back under his covers in moments, breathing hard.

He heard Jeremy enter long minutes later, by which time Michael had managed to school his body into the appearance of a sleeping person. Still desperately curious as to why Jeremy had been awake in the first place, Michael rolled over and blinked his eyes open in what he hoped was a bleary manner.

“Jerm?” Michael faux-mumbled. “Y’alright?”

Jeremy looked startled, then sheepish. “Yeah,” he whispered, throwing a damp towel over his desk chair. “Go back to sleep, dude.”

Michael could’ve left it at that, but he was still worried. “Did you just shower?” he asked, going for ‘confused’ but not ‘judgemental’ and probably achieving neither.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Jeremy shrugged, his back to Michael as he busied himself putting away his shower things. “Needed to clear my head. Don’t worry about it.”

Michael leaned up on one arm. “You wanna talk about it?”

He saw Jeremy’s shoulders tense as he paused, about to climb back into his own bed. He stood silent for a moment, and then, in a defeated sort of voice: “No thanks, Michael.”

Michael’s heart sank. Jeremy always seemed so alone in his own head. But if he wouldn’t talk, what more could Michael do?

His next words tumbled out without his permission. “Do you wanna. Uh. You wanna hug about it?”

Jeremy turned around, then, his face unreadable in the darkness. Michael fought the urge to squirm, to play it off somehow and turn over and pretend to go to sleep. Instead, he opened his arms in awkward invitation.

“I. Uh. Really?”

Michael nodded. This was a thing they did, right? Jeremy had done it for him when he’d been homesick that one time. That said, they sort of just ended up that way. This was more...premeditated.

“Yes?” Shit. That wasn’t supposed to sound like a question.

Jeremy lingered by his own bed for a few moments more. “That...would be nice,” he said at length.

Michael couldn’t suppress a smile. “C’mere, then,” he said, making grabby hands with his outstretched arms. Jeremy grinned back at him, and Michael felt some of the tension slip out of the room.

Michael held up one side of the comforter for Jeremy to slide under it with him. Jeremy settled himself at the edge of the bed, his body ramrod straight and his arms crossed awkwardly in front of him. It didn’t look at all comfortable, and Michael rolled his eyes. “Oh, so you can latch onto me like an octopus when it’s your idea, but when I suggest it, I’ve got to share a bed with a mannequin?”

Jeremy snorted and shuffled a bit closer. “Happy?”

“No,” said Michael emphatically. “Like this.” He wrapped an arm around Jeremy’s back and hauled him into an embrace. To his surprise, Jeremy all but melted into him, snaking an arm around Michael’s waist and leaning forward to rest his head against Michael’s chest. Michael breathed in the clean, fruity scent of the shampoo Jeremy had just used, and resisted the urge to bury his nose in his friend’s still-damp hair. “Okay?” he asked, needing to know for sure that Jeremy was alright with this.

“Okay,” Jeremy replied, and Michael felt him nod against his chest. They were silent for a few moments. “Thanks, Michael,” Jeremy said, so quietly Michael almost missed it. If Jeremy felt Michael’s heart beat faster against his cheek, he didn’t say anything.

 _You’re welcome,_ Michael meant to say. _Anytime._ What he said instead was “You— you smell good.”

Jeremy laughed, surprised. “Thanks,” he replied. “Shower,” he added, by way of explanation, and Michael found himself laughing too. “You might wanna try it sometime—”

“Shut up, I shower more than you do,” Michael told him. Though maybe not, if 3 am showers were a habit of Jeremy’s he didn’t know about.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jeremy mumbled, clearly fading fast. He fell asleep in just minutes, and Michael was pleased to see the worry line between his eyebrows disappearing as his body relaxed.

It took Michael a little longer to get to sleep. Jeremy kept making soft, content sort of noises that kept Michael up in a way that was totally annoying and in no way heart-meltingly adorable.

Not one bit.

* * *

Jeremy was already gone when Michael woke up for class the next morning, as usual. For all he claimed not to be a morning person, Jeremy handled all those 8 am classes pretty well. Michael was content to sleep as late as he could, thank you very much. But that might have to change if he wanted to catch another one of Jeremy’s shower performances.

Michael couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. In every class, he found himself zoning out, trying to remember exactly how it sounded when Jeremy hit the high note that broke Michael’s brain a little bit. He googled what lyrics he could remember and listened to the song on repeat, thinking maybe it was just really good music, but the original version didn’t do as much for him. It was Jeremy’s voice he couldn’t stop thinking about. By the end of the day, he’d resolved to wake up when Jeremy did the next morning in the hopes of scoring an encore.

When Jeremy’s alarm went off at 7:15, Michael was having second thoughts. Normally he would get to go back to sleep for another _hour_ …but his curiosity won out. Michael waited a minute after he heard Jeremy leave the room, then followed.

Two showers were running when Michael entered the hall bathroom. He wasn’t sure why this surprised him – obviously other guys in their hall would take their showers around this time – but he’d been so single-mindedly focused on Jeremy that he’d overlooked that possibility.

The next thing Michael noticed was that – much to his disappointment – there was no singing. _Yet_ , Michael told himself, _no singing yet._ Maybe Jeremy needed some time to wake up. Michael slipped into a bathroom stall to wait it out, and, yep, this was officially creepy now. But it felt like the sort of thing he should _know._ You should _know_ if your best friend has a gorgeous voice that he uses exclusively at the crack of dawn. Right?

Michael heard one of the showers stop – too early for Jeremy to be done, so probably the other guy’s. There was the rattling sound of a curtain being pushed aside, and, a few minutes later, the thud of the bathroom door swinging shut behind him.

For a moment, there was only the sound of running water. Then another rattle – another curtain being drawn? But Michael hadn’t heard anyone else come in. He peered through the space between the stall door and the divider.

Jeremy had poked his head out of his stall and was now looking down the line of showers. He did a few double takes, like a person about to cross a street, and then drew his head back in. Michael thought he saw him smile.

“ _Moving forward, using all my breath_  
_making love to you was never second best…”_

Oh. Oh! Jeremy was – he’d been waiting for the other boy to leave. Michael should’ve expected this. If Michael felt like singing in the shower, he’d sing in the shower, listeners be damned – but of course Jeremy would be shy about it. But now that he thought he was alone, he was...wow, he was really going for it.

_“I’ll stop the world and melt with you!_  
_I’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time_  
_There’s nothing you and I won’t do_  
_I’ll stop the world–_  
_I’ll stop the world and melt with you!”_

Michael was smiling so hard that his face was starting to ache. Jeremy was going at it with such enthusiasm, and he sounded so _happy_ – and hell, the boy could carry a tune. He was even doing his own backup vocals, the little repetitions that Michael knew were in the song and was fighting the urge to supply himself.

When Jeremy finished the song, there was a brief period of silence during which Michael considered slipping out while he had the chance. But then Jeremy started up again, and Michael was enraptured.

_“I don’t have much to give, but I don’t care for gold_  
_what use is money when you need someone to hold…”_

Michael had the vague impression that he’d heard this one before, but he was more struck by the change in tone from Jeremy’s upbeat opening number. His voice had taken on the delicate, soft quality Michael recognized from the other morning. But now he sounded sad – so damn defeated that it made Michael want to grab him and shake him until he explained what had ever made him want to sing something so heartbreaking. Michael quietly unbolted the stall door and crept out to linger by the sinks.

_“We sit in bars and raise our drinks to growin’ old_  
_I’m in love with you, and you will never know._  
_But if I can’t have you, I’ll walk this life alone…”_

Michael backed slowly towards the door, torn between wanting to listen as long as he could and wanting to get far, far away from this hauntingly lonely song. He stood with his hand on the door as Jeremy sang the last few notes, and slipped out just as he heard the water shut off behind him.

* * *

Michael really needed to stop doing this, he mused, sitting cross-legged on a closed toilet seat at 7:23 am.

He’d tried to stop. He really had. For two whole days, he’d heard Jeremy’s alarm, heard him tiptoe off to the showers, and he’d just lay there. But he couldn’t go back to sleep, couldn’t stop…thinking. So for the past week, he’d been sneaking off after Jeremy, hoping to catch a song.

It didn’t always happen. The first day, Jeremy was halfway through an Owl City song when the bathroom door swung open and two of their hallmates shuffled sleepily in with their shower things. To Michael’s dismay, Jeremy fell swiftly silent, and stayed that way for the rest of the shower. On day three, another boy was in the shower stall across from him the whole time they were in there, and Jeremy didn’t sing at all.

But the days Jeremy did sing were always good days. Michael knew they had different taste in music, but he soon realized that Jeremy’s taste was really all over the place – in a good way. He sang pop songs, showtunes, and soft indie stuff that Michael had go look up afterwards. He was also, apparently, easily influenced by the music he’d heard the day before. He’d often sing snippets of whatever playlist Michael put on while they studied. Michael’s favorite instance of this so far had been the day Jeremy crooned out Marley’s _Is This Love,_ but he was also considering suggesting they watch some Disney movie just to be treated to a princess song the next morning. Sometimes Jeremy sang just fragments of songs, trailing off when he got bored with one or forgot the words, and picking up another. But every song Jeremy sang, regardless of genre, length, key, or tempo, was beautiful.

And that was a problem.

Cause Michael had these…feelings. Had had them for longer than he wanted to admit, really, but he refused to think about them because they were Big and Serious and had the potential to ruin what had long been one of the most important relationships in his life. Which was doubly scary now that they were away at school and Jeremy was the only familiar face he had.

So. He just…didn’t think about it. And he avoided situations that might make him fall deeper—uh, that might make his dumb crush bubble up to the surface. Which listening to Jeremy sing, bright and beautiful and for no one but himself, definitely was.

So it had to stop.

Only Michael really, really didn’t want it to.  

He’d taken to singing more around the dorm in the hopes that Jeremy would join him – maybe if Jeremy singing became a regular thing, Michael would stop feeling weird and warm and awestruck every time it happened. But Jeremy just wouldn’t do it. Even when Michael tried songs he’d heard Jeremy sing before, his roommate remained stubbornly silent.

He was dying to confront him about it – just ask him, “Hey, dude, why don’t you ever sing?” It would be so easy, he told himself. But he couldn’t seem to do it. Probably because he was afraid that saying anything would put an end to the daily shower concerts, and part of him was stubbornly refusing to give that up. Fuck, how was he so hooked on this? Maybe Jeremy was a siren. Could Jeremy be a siren?

As it turned out, it was Jeremy who confronted him. He was zipping up his backpack for a lecture, and Michael was at his desk, singing a number from _Wicked_ sotto voce _._ He heard Jeremy turn and heft the backpack onto one shoulder, then felt his eyes on him. His song trailed off.

“Uh, hey, Michael?”

Michael turned to face him. Jeremy looked embarrassed, like he was still deciding whether he wanted to say whatever he was thinking, and Michael felt his stomach drop. Was this about– had he figured out—

“W-why are you so...sing-y, lately?”

Michael froze. Not the question he’d been expecting, but still treading close to dangerous territory. “I…I, uh—”

“Not that it’s, you know, a bad thing, I mean, you’ve got a wonderful voice, and—”

“What?”

“—and I love when you sing, I was just, uh, just curious.”

Michael felt his face heating up beyond his control as he floundered for an answer. _He likes your voice_ , his brain whispered distractingly. Michael gave it the mental equivalent of the middle finger.

“It’s just fun, I guess,” he said eventually. “I’ve been...getting into some new stuff, lately, and it’s nice just to sing it.” He forced himself to look up at Jeremy to gauge his reaction. “Haven’t you ever sung something just cause it was stuck in your head?”

Jeremy was looking away now, shaking his head. “Not really.”

 _Liar,_ Michael thought, but he let it slide. “You should. You— I bet you have a great voice.”

Jeremy shook his head again, shuffled backwards towards their door. “Nah, it’s— it’s not like yours.” Michael stood, made to argue with him – not sure how he would’ve done it without giving himself away – but Jeremy didn’t give him the chance. “Anyway, got recitation in 10, soooo… uh, see ya!”

Michael watched the door fall shut behind him, then flopped face-first onto his bed. “Seriously?” he demanded of no one in particular.

The universe at large chose not to reply.

* * *

A week or so after that particularly awkward conversation, Michael was just about ready to give up. He couldn’t get Jeremy to sing outside of the shower, and sneaking off to hear him in the mornings was starting to feel more and more wrong. This was obviously a part of himself that Jeremy wasn’t comfortable sharing, and just because Michael thought his voice was incredible (read: expressive, exquisite, alluring, _pretty_ ) didn’t mean he was allowed to decide for himself that he should hear it.

 _Last time, then_ , he told himself guiltily. Just this one more morning and then he’d quit. He’d put Jeremy’s voice out of his head for good.

Michael paused with the bathroom door about halfway open and listened. No singing yet – and no shower running, either. That was odd. He turned to ease the door quietly shut and yelped when he registered the figure in the corner of his eye.

Standing just next to the door, expression unreadable, was Jeremy Heere.

* * *

The whole encounter would probably have been more dramatic had Jeremy not also given an answering shout of surprise upon being discovered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to— sorry,” said Jeremy breathlessly when they were both done yelling. His hands hovered over Michael uncertainly as he regained his balance. Michael waved him off.

“It’s cool, dude, you’re – are you good?”

Jeremy was looking very pale. “Yeah, I’m fine, I–” He stopped himself, shook his head as if to clear it. “Michael, why are you here?”

Um. “Would you believe me if I told you I had to piss?” Michael tried.

“I think you’d override basic bodily functions if they were trying to get you out of bed before 8, so no,” said Jeremy, and Michael could hear the voids in the sentence where amusement was supposed to be. “Also, I thought I heard something while I was in here on Tuesday, and I saw you leaving all sneaky yesterday morning so no, Michael, I’m not gonna believe that.”

Michael took a step back as Jeremy pushed off the wall and stood at his full height. He looked pissed. He looked...scared. The guilt that had been swimming around in Michael’s gut solidified and sank to the bottom of his stomach. “I didn’t expect you to,” Michael said quietly. “I wasn’t gonna lie.”

Jeremy seemed to deflate, anger giving way to hurt so completely that Michael, watching him, nearly gasped. Jeremy’s back hit the wall again. “Well, can you get the truth over with, then?”

Michael hesitated, still struggling to keep up with Jeremy’s sudden change in tone. “It’s the singing, isn’t it?” Jeremy prodded, sounding miserable.

If getting caught was bad, having to explain to Jeremy that he was too weak in the face of a beautiful voice to avoid betraying a friend’s trust was fucking terrible. Michael nodded mutely. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then hesitated, the look on Jeremy’s face chasing away whatever he was going to say next.

“...for _what?”_ Jeremy asked. “I don’t get it, w-why would you— if you were gonna make fun of it, why haven’t you already?”

Michael stared. “Make fun of it?”

Jeremy ran a hand through his mess of bedhead, pulling at the ends of it. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal, I mean, you sing all—”

“What, no, Jeremy, I wasn’t gonna make _fun_ of you!” The guilt in Michael’s stomach grew several ounces heavier. “Is that what you thought this was about?”

“What else would it be?” asked Jeremy, a bitter laugh creeping around the edges of the question. “Why else would you—”

“It’s beautiful,” Michael blurted, suddenly desperate to say it, say it all, because surely Jeremy _knew,_ right? He had to know. It was a goddamned travesty if he didn’t know. “Your voice. It’s beautiful and powerful and, and versatile, and I’m sorry, but once I started listening I couldn’t _stop_ and I just…” Michael sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Jeremy bristled. “That’s not funny.”

Michael was beyond confused now. He wished Jeremy would look at him. “...what?”

“That’s not _funny,_ dude, you _said_ you wouldn’t fuck with me—”

“I’m not— Jeremy, I was being serious!” Michael’s voice echoed back to him off the tile, and he realized he’d been shouting. He sighed.

“The first time was an accident,” he explained, voice now just above a whisper. “It- it was late, and you were gone, and I was...worried, so I came to make sure you were alright and I…heard.”

Jeremy still wasn’t looking at him, but now Michael was hoping like hell that he’d stay that way, because he could already feel a blush crawling up his neck. “And I was gonna just leave, I swear, but you were singing ‘Always’ and I’d never heard it before, a-and I’d never heard _you,_ before, and I was just…” He shook his head, remembering. “Floored.”

He risked a glance up at Jeremy, whose face was slightly scrunched as if he were piecing it all together. “You’ve got to know how good you sound, Jeremy, c’mon.”

Jeremy gave a sort of half-shrug. “Everybody sounds good in the shower.”

“Nu-uh. Not like you.”

At last, Jeremy met his eyes. “...you’re serious?”

“Yes,” Michael told him firmly.

“I sound...good.” For a statement, it sounded a lot like a question, and Michael felt compelled to answer it.

“You sound _right_ ,” said Michael. “Like, no matter what you’re singing, you’re supposed to be singing it,” he said, and the words were tumbling out, now. “You sound happy, and sure of yourself, but so _gentle_ sometimes it gives me goosebumps, dude. A-and I just wanted to listen to you every day forever so I sort of...did.”

Jeremy was blushing now, too. “Oh,” he said, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” said Michael, feeling sheepish again.

“But wait,” Jeremy said, and Michael wanted to scream. Seriously? Still with the self-doubt, Jeremiah?

But that wasn’t what he was asking about. “You came that night I was– that night I took a shower really late, and then after we...uh…”

“Yes,” said Michael, sparing him whatever those next words were going to be. “That was the first.”

“And you’ve come _every day_ since?”

Michael ducked his head. “Well, not weekends. Weekends we sleep in.”

“Michael, that was like a month ago!”

“Uh-huh.”

Jeremy threaded a hand through his hair again, effectively distracting Michael for longer than he wanted to admit. “Oh god,” he whined. “Oh my god you must’ve heard. I must’ve sung so many….silly things.”

“Nothing sounds silly when you sing it,” said Michael truthfully. He thought about it. “Well, except maybe some of the stuff from Legally Blonde–”

“Oh my _god,”_ said Jeremy, horrified.

“No, actually, you did that one pretty well–” He broke off into a giggle as Jeremy groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Have I mentioned how sorry I am?”

“S’ok,” said Jeremy, muffled.

“No, no, it’s not though,” said Michael, serious now, because Jeremy couldn’t just brush this off. “Cause I totally invaded your privacy and broke your trust and manipulated you into singing more Marley–”

“Wait, what?”

“–and took advantage of your pretty, pretty voice in like a selfish, creepy way and if you’re mad at me you’re allowed to be. Mad at me,” he finished.

Jeremy let his hands slip from his face. “I’m not mad.”

“But you are creeped out?”

“I’m not creeped out.” Jeremy’s eyes flicked upwards. “Well, I was a little creeped out to begin with. But now…”

Jeremy mumbled the rest of the thought, but Michael was sure he’d caught the word “sweet” in there. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he prodded, smiling faintly.

 _“I’mgladyoulikemyvoice_ ,” Jeremy said in a rush. “ _I_...kinda like my voice. But no one’s ever said...and it’s not like I sing much…”

“Why not?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I dunno. The occasion never arose.”

“The occasion never–” Michael spluttered, indignant. “Dude, I’ve been trying to get you to sing for weeks!”

“You have?” Jeremy thought about it. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Yeah, _oh._ Which– I’m sorry for that too, by the way. I shouldn’t have pushed you to share if you wanted to keep your talent between you and these grody showers.”

“Would you still?” asked Jeremy quietly.

“What?”

“Would you still, uh,” Jeremy repeated, “want to hear me sing?

Michael blinked. “Y– dude, yes!” His hands flew to Jeremy’s shoulders and shook him once, beaming. “Hell yes. But only if you want to,” he amended.

Jeremy nodded. “I do, but.” He hesitated. “Uh, could we...together?”

Michael’s brain filled in the gaps and he nodded, suddenly nervous. “Y-yeah! Absolutely we could, whenever you feel like it–”

At that moment the door swung open to admit three grumpy-looking freshmen. The first of boy gave Michael, still standing just beside the doorway with arms bracing Jeremy’s shoulders, an odd look, but said nothing. The trio headed for the showers.

“Oh shit, I’ve got class.” Jeremy’s eyes were wide.

Oh, right. Michael had totally forgotten too.

“So I’m just gonna. Go–” he gestured to the showers behind him.

Michael nodded vigorously. “Yeah, you should probably–”

“But later today we could...?”

“Yes!” Michael agreed immediately. “Yeah, buddy, whenever, and whatever song you want, o-or I could pick one, it’s...whatever!” He flapped a hand to emphasize just how whatever it was.

“O-okay,” said Jeremy, offering him a soft smile. “Uh, cool.”

“Cool!” said Michael, sounding strangled. He reached for the door handle at the same moment Jeremy made to move around him, landing them in an impromptu chest bump that made both boys laugh breathlessly. “After you,” Michael quipped, standing aside. Jeremy slid past him, grinning.

And then Michael was outside, wandering in a daze back to their room, flopping back onto his bed, beaming like an idiot the whole time.

So much for quitting.

* * *

“ _No,”_ insisted Jeremy, shoving Michael’s hand off the trackpad. “Absolutely not. Nothing by Taylor Swift.”

“But that one’s so easy to plaaay,” Michael complained. “And it’s _old_ Taylor Swift.”

“Still not happening,” said Jeremy, and Michael whined again, but really he was pleased that Jeremy was getting involved. He’d made Michael pick the first two songs and, with nothing in mind despite having had all day to think about it, Michael had been picking at random from the uke tabs on a top hits list. (They’d agreed that it would be weird to just...sing, but weirder to go looking for karaoke tracks, so Michael had pulled his ukelele from under his bed and become the designated supplier of their tuneage.)

It had been supremely awkward at first. It took some encouragement to get Jeremy singing at volumes audible to the human ear. Then Michael, distracted by said impeccable singing, kept losing track of the strumming pattern and effectively driving their song into the ground. But by the end of their third rendition of “Hey There Delilah,” they were starting to get into a groove, Jeremy jumping to sing higher harmonies and Michael keeping up the tempo. Now, Jeremy was scrolling through uke tabs with extreme prejudice, and Michael was having a blast.

“How about this?” Jeremy asked, turning the screen to show him.

It was Michael’s turn to be picky. “Mmmmnope, can’t play those chords.”

“What!”

“My hands don’t bend like that!”

Jeremy shoved at him. “Get better hands!” he demanded, snickering.

Michael caught himself on one hand and pushed back against Jeremy where he was sitting next to him on the bed. “Or, I dunno, _you_ could learn an instrument.”

“Noooo,” said Jeremy, “No, see, I’m too busy perfecting the ‘pretty pretty voice’ you love so much.”

Michael kept pushing at him, determined to knock him over, now. “S’already perfect,” he muttered.

“What was that?” asked Jeremy. Michael didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking, but he looked anyway. “Didn’t quite hear you.” Jeremy uncrossed his legs and braced a foot against the bepost for balance. Hmph. There was no way Michael could topple him now.

“I said your voice is a lost cause, you should take up the oboe,” and oh, that got a real, full laugh out of Jeremy. “You pick a song yet?”

Jeremy made an exasperated noise. “No. You realize you’re being kinda distracting, right?”

“Only because you’re being so picky.” Michael sank back against a pillow, marvelling at how easily they’d slipped back into this, this simple give-and-take. Or, push-and-shove, as it were. So easy and so _right_ , like seeing Jeremy at the end of a long day closed some kind of circuit in his brain, realigned everything inside. It was so simple, Michael could almost forget–

“How about this?”

Michael looked up to see Jeremy circling the cursor over the most sickly sweet song in the history of the universe. It was most certainly a love song, and he knew immediately that the part of him that wasn’t content to be platonic would harp on this for months. But Michael could play it, and Jeremy was into it, so...Michael sighed. “Sure.”

Jeremy side-eyed him. “I feel like you’re judging me.”

Michael was very preoccupied with judging himself, but there was no way he was gonna explain that one. “It’s a _pretty_ cutesy song, Jerm.”

He saw Jeremy’s posture change out of the corner of his eye. Very slight – a little hunch forward, a little inward shrug of the shoulders, and oh, Michael knew him too well. “It’s nice, though,” said Jeremy, sounding small.

“Hey.” Michael placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, looked him in the face until Jeremy was looking back. Michael offered him a smile. “Didn’t say cutesy was bad.”

Jeremy looked faintly surprised, then broke slowly into a crooked sort of smile that made Michael light up inside. He groped blindly for his ukelele behind him, and they rearranged themselves so that they could both see the laptop.

“You first?” asked Michael as he was strumming the intro. Jeremy nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

Jeremy watched him play once more through the progression, then came in softly with the first verse.

_“Don’t you worry there, my honey_  
_we may not have any money,_  
_but we’ve got our love to pay the bills.”_

“Me now?” Michael asked quietly. Again, Jeremy nodded. Michael, heart pounding, took the next bit.

“ _Maybe I think you’re cute and funny,_  
_maybe I wanna do what bunnies do_  
_with you, if you know what I mean.”_

Michael nudged Jeremy pointedly in the ribs with the elbow of his fret hand. Jeremy just snorted, but he looked blushy and Michael didn’t, so Michael counted it as a win.

Jeremy joined him on the chorus.

“ _Oh, let’s get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France,_  
_let’s get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance,_  
_let’s get rich and build a house on a mountain, makin’ everybody look like ants_  
_from way up there, you and I, you and I.”_

Michael focused pointedly on the laptop, doing his best to ignore the way he’d gone all warm.

_“Well, you might be a bit confused_  
_and you might be a little bit bruised_  
_but baby, how we spoon like no one else.”_

They were switching off without speaking, now.

“ _So I will help you read those books_  
_if you will soothe my worried looks_  
_and we will put the lonesome on the shelf.”_

They ran through the chorus again, and Michael paused.

“Why’d you stop?” Jeremy asked.

Michael turned to face him. “Uh, last one says ‘no strum,’” he explained.

“Oh.” Jeremy seemed to consider this. Then, with just a soft inhale of warning, he started up again.

“ _Oh, let’s get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France,_  
_let’s get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance.”_

He sounded good, a capella, and Michael was viscerally reminded of all those mornings he’d spent listening to just that. Without the need for chords, he had no excuse to look at the laptop, so he was sort of just...staring at Jeremy. And Jeremy was staring right back, gaze soft and sweet and maybe a little nervous. Michael fought down a tremor in his voice as he joined in.

“ _Let’s get rich and build a house on a mountain, makin’ everybody look like ants,_  
_from way up there, you and I, you and I.”_

They couldn't seem to look away from each other, and Michael felt suddenly as though their faces were far too close together. Had they been drifting closer?

“... _from way up there, you and I, you and I,”_ Jeremy echoed, a graceful flourish of melisma on the last word.

And then it was quiet.

Michael couldn’t seem to move. The butterflies of pretending this song meant something wouldn’t go away, and Jeremy was still just _looking_ at him.

“Hey, Michael,” Jeremy said, and it was so, so soft.

“Y-yeah?” Michael could count the freckles on his face at this distance.

“There’s something I think I should tell you.” Jeremy sounded nervous. He blinked, and Michael was struck by how pretty his eyelashes were.

“Okay,” said Michael, totally lost.

Jeremy took a breath. “l-I. I, uh.”

Michael’s eyes flicked helplessly to his lips when he spoke. And then he looked back up, but Jeremy’s eyes were closed.

And then Jeremy was kissing him.

His brain was maybe eight or nine steps behind, but his body caught up in about two seconds, lips parting automatically when Jeremy’s mouth slid down to take Michael’s bottom lip between his own. He felt Jeremy give a single exhale – warm against his skin, but cold compared to the press of his lips – and then slant his mouth further.

 _Holy shit._ Jeremy kissed _good_ , Jeremy kissed like he _meant it_ , and Michael was dizzy with it in the space of seconds.

He made a helpless little noise in the back of his throat and brought a hand up to Jeremy’s head to press him closer, but it didn’t make it there before Jeremy was jerking back, looking panicked.

“Uuuuuuuuh,” said Jeremy eloquently. “That wasn’t how I meant to tell you. That wasn’t _when_ I meant to tell you.” He was speaking very quickly, arms hung awkwardly in front of him as if to defend himself from an attack. “I-I’m sorry I don’t what came over me I just got really into the song and I shouldn’t have picked it but I thought maybe you coming all those mornings meant— but it’s cool if it doesn’t I mean this doesn’t have to change anything—”

“Jeremy,” said Michael, and he was surprised at how calm he sounded. But grateful – only one of them could freak out at a time, or else they’d become a feedback loop from hell. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“Do you really want me to say it?” Jeremy asked, muffled by the hands he’d pressed to his face.

“Yeah,” said Michael. Feeling brave, he tugged Jeremy’s hands from his face and cradled them open-palm in his own. “Cause I really don’t wanna get this wrong.”

Years of pushing aside the things swelling in him now had made Michael an expert, and he refused to believe what he wanted to believe until Jeremy explained himself. He couldn’t afford to rush into this. It was too important.

Jeremy stared at his hands where Michael was holding them captive. “Okay.” He looked up at Michael, visibly steeling himself. “Okay,” he repeated, and Michael did his best to look encouraging. Something in Jeremy seemed to soften. “I….have feelings for you.”

 _Holy shit_ , thought Michael, feeling some of his calm slip away. _Holy shit, this is happening._

“The love kind. Of feelings,” Jeremy clarified. “Fuck. I wasn’t gonna say love, but it’s out of my mouth now and…” He shrugged. “It’s the truth. I love you. I’m _in_ love with you.”

Michael was frozen. He stared at the boy in front of him, his beautiful, inelegant, kindhearted _dork_ of a best friend, holding his hands and looking into his eyes and telling Michael that he _loved_ him, that he was _in love_ with him, and his brain just...stopped.

Jeremy was looking even more worried than before. “...could you say something? Please– oh shit, dude, are you crying?”

“What? No, I—” Oh, fuck, he was. Whatever. Screw it. He flung his arms around Jeremy and hid his face in his shoulder. “I love you, too,” he said, heart pounding with the thrill of saying it aloud.  

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” Jeremy remarked, hugging him back. It was a joke, ostensibly, but Michael could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Shut up,” said Michael, laughing. “I’m fucking elated.” He pulled back to swipe at his eyes under his glasses. “I just never thought you’d. That you’d feel that way.” The goddamn tears kept coming, blurring his vision. “About me.”

There came a shifting noise, and then there was a hand cupping his face, thumb brushing gently at the tears. God, but that was sweet. When he could see again, Jeremy was smiling at him like he was something precious. “How could I not?” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’re my favowite person.”

“Oh my god,” Michael groaned, and Jeremy had the audacity to look delighted. “I hate you.”

“You don’t, though,” Jeremy sing-songed.

Michael crowded into his space, loving how Jeremy’s smirk slipped away in surprise as he drew near enough to feel the heat coming off of his skin. “I don’t, though,” he said seriously. He lingered there for a moment, watching Jeremy to make sure he got the point. He did. Of course he did.

“Can we try this again?” Michael asked, and he was slightly surprised at how low his voice came out.

Jeremy nodded, looking mystified, and Michael kissed him.

* * *

 

They made out for longer than either of them would later admit. Jeremy really was pretty damn good at it, and Michael – well, Michael had been wanting for a long-ass time.

It was Michael who, with considerable reluctance, pulled back first. “We should probably, like, sleep.”

Jeremy’s brain seemed to lag for a few seconds, a reaction of which Michael was quite proud. When he got with the program and looked at the clock, he laughed. “Holy shit.”

“Yup,” said Michael. “We were making up for lost time. That’s a valid excuse.”

Jeremy nodded, eyeing Michael curiously. “When did you...start liking me?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Michael, squirming. “Sometime during sophomore year? It happened, uh, a little at a time.”

“That’s a lot of kisses to catch up on,” Jeremy reflected.

Michael snorted. “Wait, when did you start? Uh. You know. Liking me.”

“Graduation,” said Jeremy immediately. Michael quirked an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation. It was Jeremy’s turn to squirm. “Well, that’s when I realized, anyway. I was pretty bummed about leaving everybody. And I kept thinking, “thank _fuck_ I get to keep Michael.” And then I started thinking about what it’d be like if I had to say goodbye to you, and it was maybe the worst feeling ever, so I looked at you to keep myself from getting too deep into it and you sort of smiled and I was like oh _._ _Oh._ Holy shit.”

Michael had well and truly melted inside. “Aww.”

Jeremy was smirking again. “I wasn’t finished. I thought, “Oh, holy shit, that square hat looks so bad on him–”

Michael burst out laughing. “Fuck you, Heere. Go put on your pjs.”

Jeremy slid past Michael to get ready for bed, still giggling. When Michael hit the lights a few minutes later, they both hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment.

Michael spoke first. “Um. Could we–”

“Yes,” said Jeremy instantly. He crawled onto his bed and held out a hand to Michael. Wordlessly, they tangled themselves together again.

“Hey,” Jeremy whispered, a few moments into the silence. “You listen to music when you fall asleep, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered back. “You gonna put some on?”

“If it’s cool?”

“Go for it.”

Jeremy fiddled with his phone for a moment before setting it on his desk at the head of the bed. Michael recognized the first song immediately. It was the one from before.

“Dude, did you plan this?”

“Nooo,” said Jeremy, very unconvincingly.

“You fucking did!” Michael shook with laughter.

“I did not! I just had a sleepytime playlist and – stop laughing – yes okay I did put this song at the top of it just now but that’s not the same as–”

“Oh my god.” Michael kept on laughing. “You’re adorable.”

“Go to sleep,” Jeremy pleaded.

Michael did. He dreamt of a house in the mountains, and of Jeremy.

Their calc professor was there too, for some reason. Sue him. Dreams are weird.

**Author's Note:**

> the songs are, in order:  
> Always (Panic! at the Disco)  
> Melt With You (Modern English)  
> Leave Your Lover (Sam Smith)  
> You and I (Ingrid Michaelson)  
> +1 cheeky Omigod You Guys reference. and other misc lil mentions.
> 
> i'm sorry if this feels. Mega Choppy,,, i wrote it over the span of like 3 months lmao
> 
> that said please talk to me about it, drop me a comment & i'll love you forever
> 
> i am considering.....a foray into NSFW in this series.....


End file.
